


I Ain't Sayin' She's a Grave Digger

by kremisiusaclassi



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen, Mild Language, Warning: PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 14:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kremisiusaclassi/pseuds/kremisiusaclassi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She couldn’t remember much in the way of anything anymore - but she can remember the taste of dirt in her mouth, she can remember the shovel that turned it over on her, she can remember what that checkerboard-covered bastard said before he pulled the trigger on his pistol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beat 'em With a Shovel

**Author's Note:**

> Just to note: I am mainly writing this fanfic because I was grossly unhappy with the main quest line of F: NV and wanted something that made more sense, such as the Courier going after Ulysses and not going to the Hoover Dam - because, let's be honest, getting involved in that whole fight was more than a little contrived. In that vein, the Courier in my story does have a family - her brother, who will narrate every other chapter. Because that's another thing that gets me mad, a Courier who can just do all this stuff and be really good at everything; there needs to be a balance between the things a person can and can't accomplish, therefore making the Courier's brother a good character foil for that. If it bothers you that I've included a family member, I'd recommend you just don't read it, because he's there a lot. Other than that, enjoy!

She dreamed about clawing her way out of a shallow grave, skin peeling off her body, mouth open grotesquely, maggots falling from her eyes. She had the same dream almost every night, the same nightmare. And before she clawed her way out, she always felt the oppressive weight of dirt on her chest, too heavy, too much dirt and darkness, no air in her lungs. Because of the dreams she could no longer sleep in confined areas. That wasn’t a problem when one was travelling along the open road, though, with nary a building or shack in sight.

Sometimes the Mojave was empty, and it reminded her how little there was in the world now. But more often than not, she preferred not to sleep. To go days without, bags under her eyes. If she used guns for defense that kind of lack of sleep wouldn’t be allowed. Her aim would go all wonky, wouldn’t hit the broadside of a damn barn. But she preferred to hit people with things. Things like the bumpers off of old cars, a shovel, a large rock. When you hit something dead, there wasn’t any question about them being dead. Give something a bad enough beating, they’re flat dead, the end. Bullets don’t necessarily kill people all the time. After all, she had been shot in the head and was still walking around.

Of course, though her dreams seemed to say otherwise, she hadn’t crawled outta her early grave lookin’ like an actual, genu _ine_ zombie. Some big ass robot had done that job for her. Victor. Who the hell named a robot _Victor?_ And he looked like a cowboy, too. She knew about cowboys from signs along the broken roads, from some books her mama had read her and her brother at night. Cowboys didn’t really exist then, though, and they sure as hell ain’t around in the Mojave now.

She could barely remember nothin’. Could remember useless shite, like cowboy stories and the kind of perfume her mama had made from wild flowers. Couldn’t remember her mama’s name, couldn’t remember what she looked like. Can’t even remember her brother. Can remember she has one, waiting for her in Novac. According to the note she found in her pocket, on the reverse side of a worn photograph of herself and her brother, anyway. But she don’t exactly have eidetic recall – she can remember having that, when she could remember fuckin’ _all_ the things in the world, could list off a metric shit ton of useless crap – and so what if she has a brother waiting in Novac? It’d do more harm than good now, meetin’ up with a boy she don’t have the slightest memory of. It’d be like handin’ him a perfect stranger. Better for him to think she was dead.

The good doctor had patched her up real good like. Given her the pip-boy, which was some kind of genius contraption. Like, the thing just up and zapped things into it. Real handy for carryin’ some things, like caps. She can remember, somewhat, hiding her caps in places because it was a real fool move to keep too many on your person. But now she can carry as many as she wants. And that’s pretty okay, in her estimation o’ things. Only problem is that she can’t rightly remember all her little hidey holes for stuff, and that’s a mighty shame given that all her savings are in them.

Though her memory is like that swiss cheese stuff that she saw a picture of in a homemakin’ magazine on her way up to Primm, she can remember one thing clear as day. That pansy-ass lookin’ checkerboard guy, his hair slicked back all fancy like a right-as-rain 50’s blues singer, holdin’ that shitty pistol o’ his with the fuckin’ Virgin Mary on it like God the Almighty himself was blessin’ his cold-as-balls murder of innocent couriers. Like, hello, fancy Vegas boy. Oh, you want this here chip or y’all will lay me low? Fucking take it, have a nice life, good-bye, don’t let no door hit your ass on the way out. She didn’t care about any damn chip, no matter how much money she was bein’ offered. No use for havin’ money if she was _dead_. Thinkin’ about that chip and that absolutely pris _tine_ man made her go real mad, but what made her madder was what that man had done up and told her in Primm. Some jackass had saddled her with this job. Prolly someone with a grudge, but she can’t remember no fucking thing anymore, not with all these fucking holes rusted through her goddamn thinkpan. What a wonder it is, pissin’ someone off so bad they try to get you killed. But whoever it was, musta been a coward. Only a coward killed someone without lookin’ ’em in the eyes. At least Checkboard got that bit right.

She didn’t even have a name anymore, not really. She was just callin’ herself in her own head “she” ’cause it was simple and she didn’t feel the need to make up something fancy. She introduced herself to others as Six, though, because people didn’t really like it when you said you ain’t got a name. Figure you might be hidin’ from something, like the long arm of the NCR. She didn’t know if she was set up by those NCR types, but it felt a little more personal than the swiftly regulated justice she had seen them perform. And she figured that if she were put down by the NCR, no crazy robot would be pullin’ her still-breathing ass out of a poorly dug grave.

The road was right lonely, but she was used to lonely. She had met some folk, though. Had stopped at the Mojave Outpost when she was wastin’ time on Primm and its problems, had a drink with some gal named Cass who drank three soldiers under the table before the rest stopped betting and before she nearly collapsed. She had dragged Cass’ inert ass to one of the bunks and left her there, left before that gal woke up. She would’ve felt a little guilty, but she had figured she’d see Cass again, maybe. Maybe not. But it didn’t really do good to hold on to goodbyes in the Mojave.

Eventually, she ended up in Nipton. Made her puke. She still gagged a little when she thought about it. How that smirking, sunglass wearing sonovabitch strolled up to her all egomaniacal like, like, oh, look at all this wonderful madness, gal, look around and this is what y’all get for not bein’ a member of Caesar’s fuckin’ Roman Revival, you get strung up all nice like it’s Christmas in the wastes and you’re a damn string o’ lights.

Nipton hadn’t been the source of her best decision making. She had nearly died all over again, because she was alone and armed with a shovel and a mean streak a mile wide. But when the fight was over and done with, and even though she had to pick a small handful of bullets outta her meat, it was still worth it, killing that wolf-hat bastard and his posse of gladiator look-alikes.

She had been able to power on down the road on sheer rage for a bit and a mite after that, but once she had reached that NCR ranger station, Charlie, she had collapsed in front of one o’ them. Had woken up, her mouth tasting like dirt – and she had panicked, briefly, because of that, had punched the ranger sitting at her bedside because she thought she had been buried again, damn PTSD – and that punch hadn’t sat well with Stepinac, the CO of the Station. They had seen the wolf hat that she had taken off of that damn Vulpes Inculta guy as a boon, were thinkin’ that she had thrown in with the Legion.

When she had explained the situation, mayhaps a tad harsher than necessary but what real NCR soldier didn’t know that the Legion only had one use for women, he had eased up and apologized, and she had thanked him for piecing her back together. All in all she had been out like a light for a week from blood loss, and that knowledge hadn’t sat nice in her guts. She was lookin’ for a bunch of people after all, that one Checkerboard guy and the mystery that set her up to meet that suit-wearing ass. And, maybe, she’d throw in to find her brother. Maybe, and she wasn’t a genius that was for sure, but she was thinking that maybe instead of giving her brother a stranger, he might be able to remind her who she was.

But then again, it could all go wrong. But who was she to try and let that stop her from doing something? She had just gone toe to toe with a group of crazy skirt-wearing history nuts with nothing but a shovel and a grudge. She had nearly died, sure, but her brother clearly cared about her enough to tell her where he’d be. And so she had set off for Novac lookin’ for three.

Novac was a shit hole of a little town, with an antiquated dinosaur overlookin’ one of the roads out. The dinosaur was honestly the stupidest fucking thing she had ever seen in her life, and though she wasn’t exactly the forefront of knowledge on what she her seen in her _whole_ life, but it was pretty fucking stupid.

She had tried to get some information out of the people in town, but they were either willfully ignorant or just as stupid as their big dino statue. An old man, clearly deranged, had told her that a chupacabra was eating Brahmin, and the lady running the motel had given her nothing whatsoever, had given her a lukewarm shrug and a suggestion that she ask one of the guards of the town.

And so she had wandered up into the stupid fucking dinosaur and talked to the day guard, Manny Vargas. He was wearin' a beret, one of those NCR ones with their stupid two-headed bear on it. Musta been a soldier, once upon a bye.

“’Scuse me,” she said, tapping him on the shoulder. “I’m lookin’ for a coupla people, and I’ve been told you and your partner are the only source o’ information in this town that doesn’t pertain to chupacabras.”

The man had eyed her warily. But then again, everyone eyed everyone warily. “Who are you looking for?”

“I’m lookin’ for a man in a checkerboard suit,” she offered. She might have asked about the person who betrayed her, but she didn’t remember anything about them. She figured that could wait. “And I’m lookin’ for my brother. He shoulda passed through here, coupla weeks ago maybe. He probably was lookin’ for me. I’m called Six, by the way. I… My brother probably was lookin’ for me by another name, but I don’t rightly recall my name at the moment, so Six’ll have to do.”

Manny was silent, looked like he was contemplating something. It was that kind of expression that made her want to punch some people. Trying to work out how they could screw her over for a favor before givin’ her any kind of info.

She made a disgusted sound. “What do you want done?”

Manny had the good sense to look ashamed. “Look, I know you’ve probably got good reasons for finding them, and I _have_ seen them… It’s just, look around. This place isn’t much, but it’s home. And me and Boone try to defend it to the best of our ability, but there are some things that we need a little help with. There are a bunch of ghouls, down at the REPCONN Test Site – ”

She cut him off. “What, y’all got a problem with ghouls up here? Ain’t their fault they’re the way they are, ya lot o’ bigoted fools. I know you NCR types aren’t exactly _keen_ on a lotta things that ain’t what you bunch consider _kosher_ – ”

“No, that’s not it!” He interjected, sounding impatient. “There are feral ghouls coming down the street all day recently. They’ve been attacking people. I just need you to figure out why they’re there and get them to leave. I think they were brought there by a group of ghouls, not feral ones, who are holed up over there. It would just be really helpful if you could get them to leave us alone.”

She heaved a sigh, pinched the bridge of her nose. Headaches were awful, and they were always where she had been shot. “I do that, you’ll tell me where my brother and that guy went?”

“I promise.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well that promise means a whole lot, please and thankya. I’ll just go and get right on that. But I find out that those ghouls mean no harm, I’m gon come back and beat your ass within an inch o’ your damn life, we clear?”

Manny winced. “Crystal.”

She walked out after that, shaking her head as she did. Nothing made her angrier than bigots. Well, Caesar’s Legion made her angrier, but they were as bigoted as they came. She made her way back to the woman who ran the motel, bought a room to stay in. She figured she’d talk to the other sniper, that Boone fellow that Manny mentioned, once he took his watch at night. Though she had been unconscious for a week, she was still exhausted. It wasn’t often that she elected to sleep, every time she closed her eyes she was buried again in dirt, unable to breathe, dirt in her mouth –

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. She didn’t know much about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (and if she ever did, that knowledge was lost to her) but she felt that it sounded like something it could be. Even with her hole-filled memory, she couldn’t locate ever feeling so panicked by the thought of something. But she needed sleep. There was only so much sleep a person could go without before they went completely batshit and then up and died, and she could suffer the panic if it meant livin’ to see another day.

She forced herself to lay down, to close her eyes. And though it was a fight – and she had to keep herself from turning to Med-Ex to get the job done, had to remind herself what drugs did to the fools that went up and used ’em too much – she did not drift, but fought herself to sleep.


	2. Mayhaps to Reflect Upon Tech Long Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows his sister is prolly dead somewhere. It doesn’t stop him from hopin’ that she’ll walk outta the Wastes one day, perfectly fine. But Ax prided himself on rational thinkin’, and he knew rationally that his sister wasn’t comin’ home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, my Courier has a brother. He's basically, if you want to get to the nitty-gritty of it, the equivalent of a male courier. If you don't care for siblings because you have some kind of demented problem with family systems, turn back now.

The blond doctor had been starin’ at him since he had meandered into Fort Mormon. The first time he had come to the Fort and talked to Julie he had felt the gaze too, but much briefer, and much less heavy. But the man was watching him intently, and Axiom couldn’t help but blush under that gaze, couldn’t help the tightening of embarrassment in his stomach like he had done bad, when he knew he had done good.

He had never dealt well with people. Computers and robots were much easier to work with, as they never talked back. He could hack an interface in under a minute, could create a stimpack out of broc flower and xander root. He could take apart a gun and fit it back together just as easily, could bend all manner of things to his will.

People didn’t work like that. Not that he would ever try to impose his beliefs upon another person, but people as a whole were a testy bunch, and he just didn’t speak well to people. His sister had talked good. Not grammatically speakin’, and he wasn’t exactly world-class when it came to things like elocution, but his sister could get people to do things. Could convince them that life was worth livin’, or that there were better ways for stuff to be done, or just plain gettin’ more money outta a deal. But she was gone, now. They had a deal, one they had agreed on the day their mama passed, that they would stick together. If one o’ them had to go somewhere else, and she was always goin’ off and deliverin’ stuff, they agreed on a place to meet by a certain time frame.

He had waited for her in Novac for three weeks. That was the deadline. She was s’posed to be bringin’ some hotshot item up to the Strip for a whole buncha caps, said it was a job that was gonna set them up for the Good Life. Maybe find a nice lil house in one o’ the NCR colonies, both of ’em try to settle down real nice like how mama had with pa. But now she was gone, laid low prolly by some jackass bandit, and Axiom was alone. What a thing that was, loneliness. He had never really felt it before, because he had his sis. But it was a mighty scary thing no longer having the person who had promised to always be there. Axiom wasn’t no child any longer, though, and so he soldiered through. Only so long a man can go on believin’ in childhood promises and disbelievin’ in Death’s ability to rob you of important people.

He had moved on after that, was settin’ up in Freeside all nice like, helpin’ the people out. Gave him somethin’ to do with his hands, took his mind off his sis and how there wasn’t even a body for closure. Had been helpin’ the Followers primarily, tryin’ to help them get the addicts in town clean. Was sleepin’ at the Wrangler, because the Garretts had given him after he fixed their stills and worked out that deal between the Followers and them. Had given James his stupid fuckin’ sex robot, too (and Axiom wasn’t a damn fool, he could tell the robot was for James no matter how much that guy wanted people to think otherwise; but he didn’t care, to each their own. So long as he wasn’t harmin’ no one, Ax didn’t see a problem).

The Garretts were the reason Ax was back at the Fort, under the gaze of that blond doctor as he tried to concentrate on Julie. The woman was mighty grateful for his help, acourse, not many people can work a deal with the Garretts. Ax didn’t bother mentioning that he had trouble dealin’ with people as a whole and had just let his work speak for him. He accepted the praise. It was something to focus on other than the dead.

He didn’t accept any reward for his services. There was more reward in the work, in Ax’s opinion. He didn’t need to take away funds or supplies from an organization that was already havin’ troubles. He did go over to the doctor, though, the blond one with the heavy stare. He was definitely older than Ax, which wasn’t such a big thing – Ax was kinda young he supposed, sittin’ pretty at 27. The doctor averted his gaze as he noticed him approaching, but Ax didn’t mind. He had been known to do the same kinda thing, ’specially when there was a good lookin’ man around. Ax didn’ really consider himself to be good lookin’, but it was felt nice bein’ ogled, and by someone so nice looking, too.

“If you want, I can find ya a camera and you can take a picture. Figure it might last a mite longer,” he greeted. It might have sounded like a cool thing to say, if he weren’t such a goob with people, but it came out breathy and hesitant. He looked down for a second, struck by nerves, before continuing. “Ah, that mighta sounded better in my head. I just… You’ve been starin’ at me awful hard, and it’s kinda hard for a guy not to notice.”

The doctor gave him a twitchy grin, one that lit up bright like the Strip’s lights for one moment but then disappeared completely the next, like he was tryin’ awful hard to appear unruffled. “I apologize if I unnerved you. I was simply wondering why you were helping us so much. It’s not often that a completely random wasteland stranger traipses into our humble abode without so much as a how-do-you-do and starts solving all of our problems.”

Ax shrugged. “I ain’t got nothin’ else to do. No one else waitin’ for me, so I figured I might try to make myself a lil useful. Say, I didn’t rightly catch your name.”

“Possibly because I did not give it,” the doctor replied, his mouth giving a flickering smile again. “I happen to be Arcade Gannon. I work here at the Fort doing mostly useless things, such as figuring out how to utilize plants and make them into medicine. We need to be able to make new stimpacks since there are only a limited amount in the world, after all. But it’s dead end science, mostly. I haven’t been able to make heads or tails of it and quite frankly, I’m not really helping anyone here.”

“Well, you’re a doctor, ain’t ya?”

Arcade appeared to weigh the question as if it were rhetorical. He then gave a slight sigh and answered, “Yes, I am a doctor. I do happen to be wearing the clothes of one, and I promise you it’s not a clever disguise. Occasionally I do help people medically, with sutures and the like. But mostly I’m just a researcher. And not even a particularly good one, mind you. Like I said, it’s mostly dead end. I’m enthusiastic about helping people, but _nihil novi sub sole_. If mesquite and agave were all that miraculous, the locals would’ve already figured it out by now.”

Ax grinned. “‘There is nothin’ new under the sun.’ Ain’t often you run into someone who can speak Latin. And, yeah, you’re lookin’ at the wrong plants if you’re thinkin’ about makin’ stimpacks.”

“I’m… honestly surprised that you can translate that. Not many people nowadays can speak it, and most everyone associates it with Caesar and the gentlemen across the river.” Arcade paused for a moment, seeming to contemplate the rest of what Ax had said. “Do you actually know plants that can be used to make stimpacks?”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” Ax said with a sly grin. He then changed the subject. “That’s mighty handy that you can work a suture. I’ve been wanderin’ around here for a bit and a mite and I noticed y’all ain’t got much in the way of power. I’ve been thinkin’ of headin’ on down to that HELIOS One place, that one with the solar panel arrays, and settin’ ’em up real pretty to send power on down to here. Figure it’ll help with things. I don’t reckon the NCR got a single clue in their minds in how to work that thing, but I do. And, y’know, I figure that out in the wastes, could prolly use myself a handsome doctor like you, y’know, to patch me up and the like.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Is all Arcade said in response, lookin’ a mix of excited and confused.

“I’m Axiom, by the way. I reckon you prolly wanna make fun o’ a name like that, but my mama picked it out of a dictionary so it’s not exactly normal,” he offered his hand with a flourish.

Arcade grasped his hand, looked once more like he was fightin’ a smile. “I think I’m hardly one to judge the quality of names, given my own. So, what, you’re lonely and want a doctor following you around? I warn you, I’m not really much in a real fight. I’m handy with an energy weapon, but that’s about it.”

“Fine by me,” Ax said. “I don’t reckon I’m goin’ to be in any big fights any time soon, but occasionally a trigger might be pulled. But I’m a fair shot, so it’s not a big deal. And, hey, if ya like, I can show ya which plants to use for stimpacks. I know ’em. Cheaper to make your own if you know how, anyway.”

“Then we have a deal,” Arcade straightened himself out, patted all the pockets of his jacket in search o’ something and then seeming content with what he had on him. “Alright, let’s not waste any time. There are people to help, things to learn. Not necessarily in that order, but let’s get going. You said HELIOS One, right?”

“That would be correct, yes,” Ax gave him a bobbing nod as the two of them headed off, out back onto the streets outside Fort Mormon. “That shit’s been outta commission for a fair while, but I figure I can wire it up nice and clean again.”

“That would really help the people here in Freeside. With more power, we might be able to set up a better clean water system here, one more sprawling. That way the poor wouldn’t have to pay the King’s arbitrary fine to get some good water to drink. Which, coincidentally, happens to be more expensive than that swill the Garretts sell. I figure the twins have an agreement with the King, something mutually beneficial to get people addicted to alcohol.”

Ax made a thoughtful noise. “I don’t think that the Garretts are really gonna be much of a problem no more, ever since I negotiated with ’em. And anyway, I figure that if they try to go back on our deal, I might accidentally remember some unsavory secrets o’ theirs, and then maybe I may find myself conversin’ with folk about ’em. I’m not real good when keepin’ secrets sometimes, after all. And, y’know, I mighta let that information about myself slip when I was negotiatin’ with them.”

Arcade was silent for long enough that Ax had to look next to him make sure he was still there. He was watching him carefully, eyes dark beneath his glasses. Ax cocked his head to the side and fiddled with his own pair of glasses that were digging uncomfortably into the bridge of his nose.

“Uh, d’ya got a problem with that, Arcade?”

“No. You just don’t come off as the type of person who successfully intimidates people,” he answered, shrugging. “I mean, you’re probably one of the smallest people I’ve ever seen.”

Ax smiled. He was a slight man and he wore thick coke-bottle glasses, he wasn’t really muscular in any way, and he was short. He knew he looked not like much of a threat, even with a gun, with his freckles and his mop of red hair. “Sometimes the scariest people are the ones ya think aren’t all that scary until ya make ’em mad. My sister’s like that. Was like that.” His smile faded. “Shit.” He returned his attention to walkin’, staring hard at the pavement.

There was more silence then.

“Is it… okay to ask about this sister of yours?” Ax didn’t think it was a rude question to ask. Hard to not wonder when someone dropped a conversation like that.

“It’s fine. She… Well, we had procedure, you know? To meet up when we had to go separate ways. We were s’posed to meet up in Novac, but she didn’t come in the time we set. Means she’s dead. Well, y’know, I don’t know for special certain, but we agreed that we wouldn’t go lookin’. That if we didn’t show, that meant the worse.” Ax sighed. “So, yeah, I guess ya were right on the money. I’m a tad lonely. But… I keep thinkin’ that she’s gonna show up. That she’ll walk right on up outta the wastes, lookin’ perfectly fine. But I doubt it. Gotta be realistic.”

Arcade didn’t say anything in response, but Ax didn’t expect him to. Nobody knew what to say to people, not really, when it came to grief. The silence was just as well as sympathy, though. It was nice just to have someone to talk to other than the Garretts.

It took them a bit o’er three days to get to HELIOS One, and though the NCR wasn’t keen on lettin’ them in at first, they didn’ know heads from tails when it came to the array and so they ended up lettin’ ’em in just on that fact. And it figured that they weren’t makin’ any headway, what with that dunderfuck Fantastic workin’ on the network connections. It was really a blue-eyed miracle that he had managed to get one of the console passwords given the fact he was a complete imbecile. But, luckily for everyone else involved, Axiom wasn’t a damn fool and he knew how to recalibrate solar panel arrays.

“And make sure you route the power to the Dam and the Strip! I won’t get paid otherwise!” Fantastic had shouted at them as they walked away. Ax wondered, briefly, if he was ever gonna get back full use of his ears after listenin’ to a man that loud.

“I’m sure I don’t have to remind you, since it was your idea in the first place, Axiom, but we _are_ routing the power to Fremont and Westside, correct?” Arcade asked, the moment they were out of earshot of Fantastic.

“Ah, thankfully I am not the only one with nobler goals for this place,” a slighter man, with a plain face, stood by the door. “I was just about to ask you two about that.”

“Ya don’t need to worry your pretty lil heads. I came here aimin’ on routin’ power to Freeside, and I ain’t changin’ that decision just because some half-baked computer novice wants to get paid for a job he isn’t even doin’,” Ax said, rollin’ his eyes. “Don’t rightly understand how someone that dumb got himself a job workin’ tech this advanced, but the NCR has never understood jackshit when it comes to nice technology, so I guess it isn’t all that surprisin’.”

“Yes, Fantastic is… not very fantastic when it comes to code. Personally I think it’s rather funny how he managed to unlock the west terminal. I think it’s the only time he has successfully hacked a computer,” the man replied, with a small smile. “I’m Ignacio Rivas. I work for the Followers of the Apocalypse.” He gave a nod of acknowledgment in Arcade’s direction. “The NCR doesn’t even know what they’re sitting on here, and it’s good that they don’t. This whole place could be a potential super-weapon if set up a certain way… I don’t think I need to tell you what a disaster that would be. I have the password for the east terminal here.”

Ax took the slip of paper Rivas offered and slipped it in his pocket with the other password. “Thankya. Can’t help but notice the fact you look a mite bored here. Don’t blame you, havin’ to deal with Fantastic and the NCR.”

Rivas sighed. “Yes, this project has truly worn me down. I used to be more fun. I’m hoping that once the array is up again and sending energy where it should, I’ll be able to help the Followers in Freeside more. Work in conjunction with them.”

“We may try to use the new power to offer more fresh water options to the poor,” Arcade offered. He was leaning against the wall to Ax’s side, watchin’ Ignacio with the look o’ a man who thought of someone else as a threat in a vague way. Ax wondered if he had spoken up to remind him that he was there. Not like he had to do that – Ax wasn’t gonna forget him anytime soon, ’specially not with the looks he liked to send him when he thought he wasn’t lookin’. The Wastes were mighty lonely. And there wasn’t exactly a plethora of available and interested men.

Though Ignacio looked cheered by the idea, his expression was dulled by the fact he had picked up on the undertones of irritation in Arcade’s attitude. “I like that idea.”

“So say we all,” Ax said in mock overdramatic overtones.

“ _Excelsior_ ,” Arcade added.

They bid goodbye to Rivas after that, walked out onto the flat field of arrays. It was a beautiful thing to look at, Ax thought; a whole array of solar panels, full o’ potential to help so many o’ those in need. This was, in his opinion, the true goal of science: progress was one, yes, but science should help the people.

“Ya didn’ have to do that, Arcade,” Ax said finally as he was typing industriously away at the western terminal. “Stare that guy down. Not very nice, y’know.”

“I didn’t realize I was staring him down.”

“You were. Lookin’ like he was gonna… hm, there we go,” Ax trailed off, reset the western side of the arrays and hooked the terminal up to the main one and stood up, brushed some dirt off his pants. “Well, this side’s all good now. We oughta head on over to the other one now. Once we fix that up, we’re gonna be good to go, I reckon.”

It was after they maneuvered past the dogs that the NCR had stuck around the other terminal – and why the hell they had done that was real beyond any kind o’ comprehension – that Arcade spoke again.

“You didn’t finish your sentence before.”

“What?” Ax looked up from the aging RobCo terminal, to where Arcade was standin’, lookin’ slightly uncomfortable.

“At the other terminal, you were talking about how I was looking at Ignacio. You didn’t finish your sentence.”

“Oh! Right.” Ax shrugged, went back to fiddling with the computer until it fixed the array. “We’re good to go to the main terminal now, by the by. And what I meant to say was, now stop me if I’m gettin’ this mighty wrong, but you looked like a man tryin’ to ward off an enemy, y’know? You’re both Followers, so I was thinkin’ maybe you two knew each other or somethin’, maybe y’all have a grudge or somethin’. I ain’t an expert in personal relations. I don’t get people. I get computers right as rain, though.”

Arcade grumbled a bit as they walked towards the main building. There was nothin’ inside but a whole bunch of robots, and it was a firefight that Axiom was neither expectin’ nor prepared for. Normally he’d just find a terminal, shut ’em off or mess with the IFF. But the robots had been on for who the hell knows how long, and their IFF was shot to hell ‘n’ back anyway; wouldn’t have been no help to try and turn ’em off. His cowboy repeated didn’t do jackshit against robots, but Arcade had a laser pistol. It made a good dent in the Mister Gutsy’s, to be sure, and after Ax found a slew o’ pulse grenades, it was quick work gettin’ to the main terminal.

“I don’t know Ignacio,” Arcade stated, as Ax was settlin’ down to set up the route for the power. “Not all the Followers know each other. There are actually quite a bit of us.”

“I set up the power to route to Freeside,” Axiom replied. He turned to Arcade. “Why did ya look so angry, then? Not to pry or anythin’, since you’re a very private man. Some people don’t want to talk about themselves. I get that.”

“I just have very angry eyebrows. It’s the genetic gift of the Gannon family. I always look intense and quizzical, which is great when you’re working as a researcher for fantastical improbabilities,” Arcade paused for a moment, seemed to remember somethin’, and then spoke again. “You know, you never did tell me what ingredients I needed to make a stimpack from plants.”

“Well, it completely slipped my mind,” Ax answered cheerfully. “Ya need a broc flower and a xander root. That’s why your recipe wasn’ workin’. Ya were usin’ the wrong ingredients entirely.”

“Huh.” He leaned over Ax’s shoulder and read the instructions that were on the computer screen. “So we have to go and pull the lever on the array satellite?”

“Yeah. We gotta wait until mornin’, though. The sun ain’t up right now. Gotta calibrate the array when the sun’s shinin’.” Ax stretched, looked over at the far corner, where a coupla mats lay. “I figure I’ll take a nice lil nap.”

“You aren’t worried that more robots will wake up and try to kill you?” Arcade asked, looking out across the open room with a frown.

“Nah. Robots are loud. They announce themselves. I figure I’ll be good. And anyway, double the ears now, right? That oughta count for something.”

He fell asleep quickly, a trait that was always present in the travel-weary; Axiom knew when it was a good time to get some Zs, and learnin’ to get to sleep easy cut down on the time one had to lay prone on the ground. He didn’t dream when he closed his eyes.


	3. Aim for the Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manny Vargas was one o’ them assholes who couldn’t do nothin’ on his own, so he employed the services o’ those he knew couldn’ refuse the offer. That didn’t set so nice in her stomach, ‘specially given the fact she’s tryin’ to find some important people. But she would do it, fine, she’d go on down to REPCONN and see what he wanted done.

The night guard, Boone, was even less helpful than Vargas had been. He spoke hardly at all, and wanted a favor outta her, too. But it was a favor she was good get behind – the man had been through a lot, more than she had and that was really sayin’ somethin’, and he wanted to know who had sold his wife to the Legion. That was the only thing he needed to say to set her blood boilin’. Sellin’ someone into slavery was the worst thing a person could rightly do, in her opinion. Sellin’ someone to the Legion was even worse. So she went huntin’ for a slaver, Boone’s First Recon beret grasped in her hand as she went.

It was a task, though. The citizens o’ Novac seemed to be borin’ and clean, and she had gotten no kind of useful information from any o’ the ones in their right mind. But the crazy ol’ man, No-Bark Noonan, had said somethin’ that had stuck real fast in her mind, no matter how hole-filled it was. The motel owner, that twitchy lady, Jeannie May, who had given her that half-assed point towards the town guards in the first place, had been seen by the crazy man a while back, meetin’ someone by the road that the Legion had been known to travel.

She waited for a long while, sittin’ outside the motel’s main lobby, waitin’ for Jeannie to go to sleep. By the time she saw the woman go to sleep, it read 4 in the mornin’. She crept all quiet-like into the lobby then, goin’ slow as to not make too much undue noise. She didn’t know if she had ever been good at sneakin’, but her body seemed to fall easily into a crouch and she stepped lightly enough. She figured that bein’ a courier an’ all she had to know how to move, ’specially in order to get past the Deathclaws that she knew roamed the Wastes.

There was a safe behind the counter, a locked one. She could vaguely remember how to pick a lock, could see up in the forefront o’ her mind the way she had used to hold the bobby pin and the screwdriver. She had a coupla pins stuck up in her hair, keepin’ the red tangles pushed underneath her cowboy hat. She was wearin’ sunglasses, because even at night she felt a bit easier talkin’ to people when they couldn’t see her eyes; she took them off and sat them on top o’ her hat and stared at the lock, pulled a pin from her hair and had her pip-boy deposit the screwdriver she had been carryin’ to for shits ‘n’ giggles.

It took her a good half hour and two more pins to pick the damn lock, but it finally gave and she was able to take a look inside. There were some caps, which she left alone, but there was a slip o’ paper sittin’ at the very bottom, signed and lookin’ like a bill o’ sale. She read it, slowly, had to keep herself from pukin’ or screamin’ or maybe a lil bit of both. Sold a pregnant woman. Sold her to the god _damn_ Legion – how coulda woman do that to another, knowin’ full well what they do to women, treat ’em like cattle and use ’em for breedin’ and nothin’ else. She stowed the bill away in her pocket, and before she closed the safe she grabbed the caps. No one cold as Jeannie was deserve nothin’ nice. When she stood she had to compose herself a moment, her stomach twistin’ unpleasantly and her hands shakin’. She was so mad and so upset and so disgusted that she wanted nothin’ more than to beat the woman dead with her own hands. But Boone deserved his revenge, and she wasn’t gonna rob ’im of that.

She wasn’t gonna sneak anymore, she figured. Ain’t no point in that, given she was gonna be leadin’ Jeannie to her imminent demise. She went over to the woman, sleepin’ sound as a babe on her bed, shook her awake. Jeannie woke with a start, a muttered, “Hm?”

“Jeannie May, I got somethin’ mighty important I need to show you. I reckon you might want to make your way out in front o’ the dinosaur. Like I said, it’s mighty important. I wouldn’t’ve woken ya otherwise,” she said steppin’ away from the woman as she shook off sleep and stood up.

“Well, can you tell me what’s so important it couldn’t wait until mornin’?” She asked, soundin’ rather irritable as she followed out the motel. Tough tits, she thought. Evil people didn’ deserve a nice night’s rest.

“It’ll have to wait until we’re out by the dino, I’m sorry,” she said. Not sorry as you’ll be, she left unsaid. When they finally reached the outcroppin’ of rock outside the mouth o’ the dinosaur, she turned to Jeannie, took off her hat and slid her sunglasses back on her nose, put Boone’s beret on her head. It wasn’t a moment more that Jeannie’s head exploded in pulp ‘n’ blood, warm blood hittin’ her face as the corpse fell to her feet. She grimaced and wiped her hand across her face, tried to get the thick liquid off her. There were diseases carried in blood, she knew that, and even if Jeannie May Crawford was disease-free, there ain’t no way she wanted that shit on her face for too long.

She pulled the beret off her head, squinted up at the dark mouth o’ the dinosaur where she could see the gleam of a scope. She put her own hat back on and tried to tame her back up into the hat, but she was missin’ all her bobby pins now and it refused to do anythin’ but fall back down on her neck. It was annoyin’, and a liability in a fight, but she could figure that problem out some other time. She wandered back on up to the dinosaur, handed the beret to Boone.

He looked at his beret hard for a long moment, before he put it carefully back on his head. “That’s it, then.”

“S’pose it is,” she agreed.

He nodded, his mouth pressed into a hard line. He was a man o’ lil words, but that suited her just fine. Even though she talked well enough to get people to wanna listen, she preferred action to words any day.

“How did you know?” He asked finally. His gun was leanin’ against the mouth o’ the dino, and he crossed his arms like he felt uncomfortable without it in his hands.

She frowned, swallowed ’cause there was a lump in her throat from the thought o’ what that woman had done. She pulled the bill of sale from her pocket, smoothed it out, handed it to him. “She…” She had to take a breath. “She had a bill o’ sale, in her safe.”

Boone wordlessly stood there with the bill in his hand, looked like he was readin’ it again and again. It took another moment for him to speak, like he had to search for the words.

“I’m sorry.”

He looked up at her, frownin’. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Not your fault,” he said finally. He pulled a small bag from his pocket that rattled, handed it to her. “Here. This is all I can give you. I think our dealings are done.”

She pushed the bag back at him. “I don’t need your caps. I don’t want ’em, either.”

“I can’t…” He trailed off, and then tried again. “You deserve some compensation for what you’ve done for me.”

She changed the subject. “What are ya gonna do now, Boone? Not stay here, right? I reckon there’s nothin’ here but bad memories.”

He shrugged. “There’s nothing for me here anymore, nothing for me but hunting down the Legion. Maybe… maybe I’ll just wander. Like you.”

She looked at him hard, took off her sunglasses. It was an awful lonely thing to say. She knew all about lonely; could recall the long nights alone on the road. But she had still had her brother – even with her lost memories, she could still remember all that.

“This is just a thought, but… I was thinkin’ maybe ya could come along with me. Work together to hunt the Legion. They’re already on my bad side, ever since I killed one o’ their Frumentarii in Nipton.”

Boone stared at her, wandered over to his rifle and picked it up, slung it over his shoulder. “You killed one of them?”

She nodded. “They fuckin’ murdered the whole damn town. Lit it up, crucified people ‘n’ and crippled someone. Only one guy got out, said he won some fucked up lottery that they had. It was a town o’ Powder Gangers, but not even a thug deserves that kinda treatment, that torture. It was a bad decision, though, nearly died. Only reason I’m still kickin’ is because those rangers down at Station Charlie patched me up real good. The only reason I mentioned it was because you got the look o’ someone who was gonna try to tell me that it wasn’t somethin’ I wanted to do. But I loathe the Legion, everythin’ they stand for. I don’ rightly remember all the things in my life, but I remember that.”

“And you really want me along? I’m not good for conversation,” Boone replied, crossin’ his arms again.

“I’m not much for talkin’, either,” she answered with a shrug. “And anyway, don’t snipers work in pairs? Y’all gonna need a spotter out there, let ya know which direction to pull your trigger. Double the eyes; figure you’ll miss a whole lot less in the way of legionnaires.”

Boone nodded slowly. “Snipers are a whole lot less effective on their own, yeah. I’ve done that and paid for it.”

“Do we have a deal, then?” She held out her hand, offerin’ to shake on it. He took it, but looked unhappy about it.

“This isn’t gonna end well.”

“I’d call you a pessimist, but I think you more rightly fit in the category of a realist,” she snorted, slid her sunglasses back on. Boone let go of her hand and she let it fall to her side. “Ya can call me Six. It’s not my name, and I’ll warn ya right now, I don’t remember much about my own self. Got shot in the head a coupla months ago and dumped in an early grave – don’t know how or why I’m still alive but I figure if God meant for me to live, it’s prolly to track down the man that did this to me. I hope ya don’t mind if we’re tryin’ to track him down. We’ll most likely be runnin’ into the Legion on the way, since those bastards are fuckin’ everywhere, but I just want you to know right now that I mean to be huntin’ down this man in the checkerboard suit.”

“Saw a guy with a checkerboard suit, with a couple of Khans who were talking to Manny right around the time you’re talking about,” is all Boone said in response.

“Yeah, I talked to Manny, the lil shit. He won’t tell me jackshit until I run on down to the REPCONN Test Site and fix his lil ghoul problem. Hate that shit, makin’ me fish for important info just because ya can,” she grumbled, stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Shoulda just punched him for askin’ a favor. But everyone in the Wastes knows when to not waste a good opportunity to cash in.”

“REPCONN shouldn’t be a big deal. There are ferals walking up from there during the day sometimes. We could take out the ferals that are wandering around outside, walk in and see what happened to the non-feral ghouls,” Boone suggested with a shrug. “They were supposed to be keeping them in check, last I heard.”

She nodded. “Let’s head out then. Unless you want to get some shut-eye before we go.”

Boone shook his head. “I sleep during the day.”

“We’re good to go, then.”

REPCONN, at first, wasn’t no big thing. But the problem came when they got inside and found it fulla Nightkin – and not the ones who were decent enough to stay visible, either. They had to get a bunch of giant purple assholes who liked to remain invisible, thus makin’ their easy task about a thousand times more difficult. In the end the two o’ them had to fight a bigger one, who was callin’ himself Antler, and was armed with a goddamn sword that had been obviously made from a car bumper. She hoped the insane glowin’ ghoul and his posse of zealots appreciated what she was goin’ through to save them.

In the aftermath of the fight with Antler, she had stowed her shovel in the pip-boy – marvelin’, once more, what a keen piece o’ tech it really was – and picked it up.

“Ya think this could cut a mutant’s head off?” She asked Boone as she tested its weight in her hands. It was heavy, but not overly so. She could balance it easy enough, and it swung nice. She gave the sword an appraisin’ look. “Ya think this could cut a man’s head off?”

“If it was sharp enough,” Boone answered. He was watchin’ her awful careful. “You should use a gun. You’re going to get yourself killed when you’re fighting everything up close. And a shovel isn’t exactly the best weapon choice, even if you can dodge the punch of a mutant. You’re going to end up shot dead.”

“The shovel is what I like to call a ‘cruel irony’.”

“Your ‘cruel irony’ is going to get you killed.”

She looked at him over the top of her sunglasses, which had begun to slip down her nose. “I don’t remember how to use a gun. The shovel is easy to use and don’t require no special trainin’. Don’t really need to aim, neither.”

Boone sighed, and she thought it came off rather impatient. “I can teach you to use a gun.”

“Ya can teach me later. Ain’t enough time for that right now, I reckon, since we might still have mutants lurkin’ about and those crazy fuckin’ ghouls hangin’ around.”

Boone was silent for minutes afterwards, and didn’t speak until they came to the conclusion that there were no more Nightkin around.

“What’s the irony of the shovel?” He demanded, soundin’ like it was botherin’ him. Though he sounded like somethin’ was always botherin’ him, which she didn’t mind. He had lived through a lot; once ya had your wife sold into slavery ya really had a natural right to be perpetually angry.

“The shovel is the one that checkerboard guy used to bury me. The irony is that I’m still alive, and I’m gonna use it to bury ’im after I kill him,” she snarled at one of the cold, steel walls. She started walkin’ off towards where the ghouls were hidin’ in the upper floors, muttered as she went. “Can’t sleep no more without feelin’ like I’m buried, least I can do for that bastard is return the damn favor.”

Boone, if he had heard the last part of what she said, didn’t respond. He just followed her wordlessly back to Bright and his followers.

It took the two o’ them a nearly a whole day to go and pick up the things that the deluded scientist needed to fix the rockets – the guy thought he was a ghoul for chrissakes, but she wasn’t gonna point out to him that he wasn’, it just seemed a tad too cruel – and by the time they returned to REPCONN it was mid-afternoon, the hot sun beating down on her head and makin’ her wish she had found some more bobby pins. Heavy hair was downright awful in the heat, and though she had tucked it up into her hat to the best of her ability, it stilled spilled out.

The ghouls were elated that they were finally flyin’ off into the great blue yonder, and she shook her head as she watched ’em load all up into their rockets. They then sent her and Boone on up to the control room to pull the lever and send ’em on their way.

“I cannot believe we’re sending a bunch of ghouls into space,” Boone murmured, leaning against the wall at the back of the control room.

“Buncha fools,” she muttered. She went over to the control board, could see that their coordinates were off. “Ugh. I don’t remember muchly in the way o’ fixin’ things like computers, but ya gotta be a damn fool not to notice that you’re sendin’ one o’ your rockets right into the ground ten miles out.”

“Can you fix it?” Boone was next to her at the board now, frownin’ down at the controls.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “My brother could. He’s good with computers, I think. I get that impression, anyway. I can try. Just gimme a moment.” She fiddled with the dials, and once upon figurin’ out the way they worked, tweaked the numbers so they all pointed the rockets towards space. “There we go. That oughta put ’em on their way. Don’t know what they plan on doin’ once they’re up there, though.”

She pulled the lever, and the speakers behind them started blasting music. She cursed, covered her ears. “What the fuck is wrong with these people? I ain’t gonna be able to hear goddamn nothin’ after this.”

Boone looked to be in similar pain and annoyance. “What?”

She shook her head.

The rockets took off, and though to some it mighta been a beautiful moment, to her it just looked foolish. One o’ the rockets went wonky and crashed, even with her help, and another managed to straighten out and fly just fine. The music died after that, leavin’ her ears ringin’.

“God _damn_. I ain’t never helpin’ out any crazy space ghouls no more. They can get to space on their own damn time.”

“I hear you.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do ya? Because I can barely hear nothin’.”

Boone sighed in a long-sufferin’ way and she grinned, one o’ the first smiles she had given since she had woken up in Goodsprings.

“I know ya don’t want to head back to Novac, but I do believe Manny Vargas owes me some information,” she pushed her way back into the facility and started headin’ down to the exit.

“It’s fine.”

“We may have to stay the night.”

“That’s fine, too.”

“You sure that’s fine?”

“I said, it’s fine.”

“No need to be testy, Boone, I’m just makin’ sure.”

They made it back to Novac in a coupla hours, and though she was worried that she was gonna make it back with Manny not on watch no more, he was still standin’ in the mouth of the dinosaur.

“You’re back,” he said. He seemed to be talkin’ to Boone and not to her.

“No.” Boone did not elaborate on his reply, and seemed to clam up after that. Manny looked hurt, didn’t even try to disguise it in any way, turned his attention to her.

“I guess you’re here because you finished that thing at REPCONN, right?” He asked, though his voice was dull and it sounded unlikely that he was gonna give her any info.

“Yeah. And don’t you try to cheat me outta what I want to know, got that? I got a man to kill and a brother to find, and I ain’t got the time to be dancin’ around helpin’ your podunk town,” she answered, settin’ her jaw to let him know she was gonna get her answers or there was gonna be trouble.

“Okay,” Manny sighed. “That guy in the checkerboard suit, he was with a couple of Khans that I knew, one of ’em was named Jessup. I was a member once. Left to join the NCR. They said they were heading up to Boulder City.”

“The checkerboard guy, did you get his name?” She leaned forward, brows furrowing. “Did your friends tell you his name?”

“I didn’t get his name!” Manny exclaimed, steppin’ back to put space between ’em. “Jessup didn’t say, and neither did he! All I know is that they went to Boulder City.”

“That’s all I needed to know,” she stepped back, motioned at Boone that they were goin’. “Y’all have a good life, now.”

“Yeah, I’m sure we will, now that you’ve run off with our other guard,” Manny snapped at her as she was exitin’. Boone seemed to tense on one o’ the lower stairs.

She looked back at him. “Cry me a river, boy. Y’all can always get a new guard. Go ask one o’ those rangers down at Charlie if they know someone. Don’t pull that damsel in distress bullshit with me.”

She pulled the door closed behind her hard, tromped down the stairs after Boone. He didn’t say nothin’ and neither did she. The man behind the counter of the gift shop gave ’em a meek goodbye, but she ignored it. Novac wasn’ worth her time. She walked over to the room she had stayed in the day before, pushed the door open.

“I figure it’ll be best if we rest for the night here. No point in headin’ out until tomorrow mornin’, I think,” she said as she dropped her bumper sword on the floor by the bed and then cracked her back with some satisfaction. “Ya have a place, here, right? I figure ya do, since you’ve been livin’ here.”

Boone didn’t say much for a while as he awkwardly stood by her open door. Then he said, “I’d rather not go back there. Nothing but bad memories now.”

She shrugged. “You can take the couch if ya want it.”

“That’s fine.”

“You’re an easy man to deal with, Boone,” she complimented. Then she threw herself down on the bed and toed her boots off, rolled around until she got comfy. “If ya wake up before me and it’s daylight, don’t be afraid to shake me awake.”

“Alright.”

She closed her eyes tight and tried real hard not to feel buried.


End file.
